


A Place to Call Home

by ThatVermilionFlyCatcher



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: 1930's, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Before the start of the story but important to the plot, Dear Enemy (Jean Webster) AU, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Fire, First Aid, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Mentions of psychotic outbursts, Minor Character Death, Non magic AU, Orphanage, Orphans, Snowing implied, accidental self poisoning, mentions of verbal and physical abuse in the past, proto swanfire
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-20
Updated: 2018-05-23
Packaged: 2019-04-04 08:31:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14016327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatVermilionFlyCatcher/pseuds/ThatVermilionFlyCatcher
Summary: The orphanage is a grim place, but the new superintendent is set on changing that. If only the doctor were a bit more cooperative...Or the Dear Enemy AU in which Belle is the superintendent, Mr. Gold the visiting physician who is also looking for his lost son, Ruby and Astrid team up to help Belle, Archie plays the banjo, some (hopefully) funny shenanigans occur, and there's a happy ending after lots of fluff and some angst.Beta: Killerkueen





	1. Wandering Souls

**Author's Note:**

> I want to say thanks to my extremely patient beta, killerkueen, and to all the beautiful people that encouraged me to write this story, specially to Briar_Rose7, TheStraggletag, ANG_the_nerd, Tinuviel_Undomiel and Leni.

“I’m not doing this just to spite you.” Belle’s voice sounded tired. “I promised Wendy to try, and now I need to see how it ends.”

“What about our wedding? Am I to assume that our engagement doesn’t count as a promise?”

Gaston followed Belle upstairs, struggling to keep up to her pace.

“We haven’t set a date for that yet. I am not planning on staying there for life, just a year. Besides, you know that your business in Washington will keep you occupied for as long as that, if not more.”

Gaston sighed with affectation.

“What about your father? He was looking forward to having you here until our wedding, and now you are going away for a whole year. Don’t you care for him?”

“I have already spent several months at home, Gaston.”

Belle stopped on the threshold of her bedroom and turned around to face her fiancée.

“This isn’t about the wedding or my father, is it?”

“Belle, we are trying to protect you.”

“From what? It’s a children’s home, not Alcatraz.”

“We are trying to protect you... from yourself.”

Belle bit her lip and crossed her arms.

“Look, I don’t know what those trustees were thinking, but you are just a girl, fresh out of college. You are in no way capable of managing an institution with over one hundred inmates. You’ll lose your bloom.”

Gaston noticed that he had raised his voice. He stopped and then continued in a calmer tone, looking Belle in the eyes.

“I love you, Belle. I just want what is best for you. Please, see reason and stay home.”

Belle frowned slightly and raised her hand to touch his jaw.

“I’ll be fine. I need to do this. Even if I wanted to stay, I can’t. They expect me tomorrow morning. I can’t just send a telegram and tell them I’m not going.”

“Fine.” Gaston’s eyes turned cold and he pushed away Belle’s hand with a jerk movement. “Time will prove I’m right. Two, three months tops and you’ll be crawling back home, mark my words.”

And that said, he turned around and left. Belle sighed and closed the door behind her, her eyes falling on the letter she had been writing before Gaston’s arrival, and sat down to finish it. She then put it in an envelope and wrote Wendy’s new address on it, the letter ready to be stamped and sent half a world away.

Belle had met Wendy Darling in college, where they had become roommates. As time passed, Belle learned that she and her brothers had lost their parents at a young age, and had later been adopted by a couple with lots of money but no children of their own. Gently coaxed by Belle’s questions, Wendy had told her everything about her life at the orphanage. It didn’t take them long to start making castles in the air, planning the reforms they would make if they were given the opportunity to run a Children’s home. It wasn’t until a week after Wendy’s wedding to an ambassador that the notice about the Glinda Merlin Home passed under Belle’s eyes, and she promised to put into practice the ideas they had produced in their college years, and turn a model institution into the hands of her successor.

Downstairs, in his study, Maurice awaited Gaston with worried countenance. He didn’t raise his eyes to look at his future son-in-law when he entered the room.

“She won’t stay,” the young man said cooly.

“I shouldn’t have let her go to college. It spoiled her. They turned my beautiful girl into an indelicate feminist. I guess it’s the just punishment for my foolishness. I pity you, son.”

“She’ll be back sooner than later, I’m sure. She’ll discover that some things are over female capabilities and come home humbled and more reasonable.”

“I hope so. I’m sure you’ll do anything in your hands to ensure that outcome.”

Gaston nodded. Belle was a very pretty woman, well educated and elegant, the ideal wife to boost a politician’s reputation and make him attractive to female voters. The fact that she was to inherit a modest fortune and an overall manufacturing company at her father’s death was an added bonus that made their wedding worth the wait, and her irritating rebelliousness a tolerable nuisance that would, hopefully, be crushed by this new adventure she was decided to hop on.

\---------

“Dr. Gold, miss Mills wishes to see you.”

Alexander Gold was finishing his daily rounds at the Glinda Merlin Home for Waifs, but the secretary’s voice stopped him at the foot of the main stairs in his way out. He turned to look at the woman and she flashed a nervous smile.

“She says it’s very important.”

The doctor drew in a breath and clutching his hand around the handle of his bag, followed her into the office.

“In need of good luck wishes on your husband hunt with dear mother, madam superintendent?”

Regina glared at him.

“The new superintendent arrives tomorrow morning on the milk train and I need you to pick her up at the station.”

“I’m sure that etiquette calls  for the incoming superintendent to be welcomed by the departing one in these occasions, not by the visiting doctor.”

“My car is already loaded with my luggage, so there’s no room for her and her things. Besides, you are going to work together. The earlier you get to know each other, the better. I’ll welcome her here, at the asylum.”

“I’m not your chauffeur, dearie.”

Regina ignored his statement.

“Miss French is a highly capable, intelligent young woman, who I’m sure will do wonders for this asylum. I’m sure you both will get along wonderfully.”

“Save your inanities for the poor idiots you will try to lure into marrying you.”

Regina gave a humourless laugh.

“You aren’t stupid, Gold. You know better than slighting someone who can fire you whenever she feels like it. You may have power over me, but not over her.”

“That yet remains to be seen. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have other patients to visit before dinner. My condolences to your future husband, if you manage to catch one, that is.”

Regina saw him turn around and leave, and once the screeching of the front door told her that he was gone, a smug smile materialized in her lips.

Since the moment she received Miss French’s letter and the list of her merits, Regina knew she was the girl she needed. It took several hours of smart and polite talk to persuade the trustees into hiring her, and several more to paint Miss French as a carbon copy of herself in front of the whole staff, Scottish doctor included. The poor girl wasn’t going to last long, and she’d be called back soon, before Cora could sell her to the highest bidder. 

“You’ll see, mother, what I am capable of.”

“Miss Mills… I was wondering…”

Her secretary’s interruption irritated her.

“What?”

“Well, I was thinking that, as I gave my bed over to little Isidore, I need somewhere to sleep tonight and I wondered if…”

“Go ask Miss Scarlett if she has a spare crib somewhere.”

“Yes, Miss Mills. Thank you,” the girl said with a weak smile and turned around to leave, almost colliding with Miss Blue in her way out. She muttered an apology and hurried upstairs, Miss Blue’s disapproving look following her.

“Foolish, clumsy girl!” the woman finally exclaimed. “Incorregible.”

“How can I help you, Miss Blue?” Regina wasn’t in the mood to hear the woman’s sugar coated complaints. Some day she would try to understand why the woman was so painstakingly polite about everyone… except Astrid. Today was not the day.

The disciplinarian smiled softly, and her voice took a sweet undertone.

“I wanted to know if there is something I need to know about the new superintendent… in order to make her acclimatation easier.”

“Oh, don’t fret about that. She’ll get a hold of everything in no time. I’m sure you’ll work with her as easily as you do with me.”

Miss Blue smiled again, but this time her smile concealed a great deal of frustration.

“In that case I should return to my duties. Excuse me.”

Regina nodded and the woman left as fast as she had arrived.

“Welcome to my personal hell, Miss French” —though it was better than the one her mother had in store for her— “enjoy your stay.”

By the time the doctor arrived to his house, he had pushed any thoughts regarding the superintendent of the Glinda Merlin Home to the back of his mind. Like every day, his anxious eyes asked a silent question to Mr. Dove, his faithful valet, and received the customary answer:

“Nothing, sir.”

Alexander nodded and the valet added:

“Your dinner is ready, sir.”

“Thank you, Mr Dove.”

The doctor ate his dinner surrounded by the dull green walls of the dining room. The same shade of green dominated the upholstery that covered the furniture, made of ebony, and a black marble mantelpiece completed the depressing decor of the windowless room. The green cottage with a black mansard roof had belonged to Mrs. McGurk, and it reflected her taste to a fault, of which the dining room was but a sample button. The doctor, however, didn’t complain, partly because he had acquired the house for a modest sum, but mostly because he thought he deserved it as a punishment and a permanent reminder that he didn’t have a home. That was the reason why he didn’t dare change anything, at the expense of the silent disapproval of Mr. Dove, who was somewhat forced to spend his days inside such an eyesore.

The only aesthetically bearable part of the whole house was the library, as it probably was Mr. McGurk’s only refuge from his wife, given her patent dislike of books. It was there, sitting on a big leather armchair and surrounded by more than four thousand books that he spent the few evenings he could stay at the house. Those weren’t cheerful, not even peaceful evenings, but he managed to make the time pass by knitting and reading, some soft strings playing in the background.

The blessed time to go to bed never failed to come, and it didn’t fail this time either. The wood creaked under his weight as he sat on the bed and swung his legs under the cool sheets. He reached out to grab a portrait from the nightstand. On the picture, a teenage boy smiled to a little girl sitting on his lap, who in turn beamed at the camera. He smiled bittersweetly as his finger touched the boy’s head.

“I’m sorry, Neal. I’m sorry for everything.”

His finger slid down to caress the girl’s curls.

“I’m sorry, Jo. I promise you I will find your brother. Forgive me, my little girl, forgive me, please.”

Tears streamed down his cheeks —like every night— as he kissed the portrait, and wiping the glass with his handkerchief, put it back on the nightstand and turned the lights off.

In a distant city, a young man was running as fast as his legs allowed him, a police officer chasing him. He hugged tighter the part of the haul assigned to him and kept running. At the turn of a corner he found himself facing a dead end. He had no other option but to run towards the wall and try to climb it.

“Stop!” The officer shouted behind him. 

Neal had hardly started to climb the wall when the policeman caught him, and grabbing him by his jacket pulled him down and turned to look at his face. The eyes of the officer grew wider when he saw the offender’s face, far younger than he expected.

“You’re... just a boy.”

Neal stood frozen. Members of that kind of gang never did, the officer thought.

“Where are your parents? Look, I can help you if you help us.” The tone of the officer’s voice was hasty.

Before Neal could answer, an explosion was heard and the policeman fell to the ground, blood starting to pour from his shoulder. The boy looked at him in shock and then to the entrance of the alley, where a man and another boy stood.

“Bonfire, come, now.”

“But… but… you shot him.”

“Yes. Let’s go.”

“He… he will die, we cannot leave him here.”

“Shut the hell up and run or I’ll shoot you too!”

Neal choked as he looked again towards the man crawling on the ground, and stepping over him, ran to his companions. He couldn’t sleep that night, the eyes of the officer seared in his memory.

“What’s wrong with you, Bonfire?” The Cat, as they called him, asked in the dark.

“We let a man die.”

“It was him or us.”

“No, it wasn’t. He could have killed me when he had me, but he didn’t.”

“Because he wanted to get information from you. Don’t be stupid. Go to sleep. We have a lot to do tomorrow.”

Neal turned on his cot, facing away from the Cat. A little window on the top of the room revealed the sky, where a few stars could be seen over the lights of the city. He wanted to cry. This thing had gone too far and now it was too late. He felt ashamed of himself. What would his little Jo think of him? His father’s faults seemed so little compared to his own now. He tried to focus on a happy memory, and his mind provided him with a quiet evening at home, back in Scotland. His father was sitting at the piano and his sister, laying on the rug in front of the fire, would ask him to play her favorite hymn. She then would move to the window and sing softly:

_ Lead, Kindly Light, amidst th'encircling gloom, _

_ Lead Thou me on! _

_ The night is dark, and I am far from home, _

_ Lead Thou me on! _

He muttered the verses under his breath again and again, until sleep took him over.

What Neal didn’t know was that a few minutes after he and his companions left the alley, a young woman had arrived to the scene, seen the wounded officer and ran to the nearest cafe to call an ambulance. She had then returned to the officer’s side and helped him press the wound to reduce the blood flow.

“You shouldn’t be here, miss,” the man managed to mutter between his ground teeth. “It’s dangerous.”

“I have seen worse. Who did this to you?”

“There was a robbery at the jewelry store six blocks from here. I caught one of them, but he was just a boy. Then someone shot me from behind and the boy escaped.”

“Did they say names? Did you hear any names?”

“Why... Why do you want to know?”

“I’m just... interested in a particular gang. I know they use code names, and that they call their leader Peter Pan. Did you hear anything?”

“You… are you  a journalist?”

“Something along those lines. Answer my question, please. It is very important that you do so.”

“The boy… the voice called him Bonfire.”

The woman muttered something under her breath, but when the officer was about to ask her again, the claxon of an ambulance was heard in the distance.

“They are almost here. I must leave. Don’t move.”

“Wait! Who are you?”

“Why do you need to know?”

“I’m investigating them too. Maybe... we can help each other?”

The girl hesitated and then answered:

“Swan. Gemma Swan. Watch yourself, officer Graham.”

And like that, Gemma Swan disappeared in the night.


	2. Arrivals, departures.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle's first day at the Glinda Merlin Home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this took so long.

The train pulled into Storybrooke’s tiny station under a heavy rain, and Belle got off it as fast as she could, clutching tightly against her chest the bag that carried her books. On the platform, a young woman about Belle’s age approached her with short, hurried steps and covered her with something that looked more like a parasol than an umbrella.

“Miss French?”

Belle smiled, confused.

“My name is Astrid Rose, and I am the orphanage’s secretary.” She offered Belle her hand. “I’m so sorry, miss, the doctor was called last minute because one of his patients was in labor, but we’ll get to the asylum in no time, I promise.”

“Oh, well, thank you. Nice to meet you,” answered Belle, shaking the secretary’s hand.

Astrid picked up the other bag Belle had brought with her and led the way out of the station and into the streets. It took little time for the rain to drench their clothes —Astrid’s, for the second time that day— and make the trip feel like an eternity, as they crossed the outskirts of town and walked by a gravel road, towards the gates of a huge, old, depressingly gray building. Miss Mills was waiting for them at the doorstep, wearing an electric blue dress and sporting an equally charged smile.

“Welcome to Storybrooke and to the Glinda Merlin Home, Miss French.”

She then turned towards her secretary and commanded:

“Carry Miss French’s luggage to the superintendent’s bedroom.”

Astrid stopped squeezing the water out of the bottom of her skirt and rushed into the building with the bags, the parasol —fully open— forgotten at the steps.

“Come with me, please.”

Regina’s voice snapped Belle to action, and she hurried behind Miss Mills, feeling guilty for the trail of water drops she was leaving behind as she spotted a girl on all fours cleaning the floor.  A pair of blue eyes, two tight ginger braids and pressed lips greeted her unenthusiastically. 

“Who… Who is that girl?”

“Ah, her?” asked Regina without looking. “You don’t have to worry about her. She’ll be of age to leave very soon.”

She stopped in front of double doors by the right of the stairs and pushed themopen. Long rows of pale children dressed in blue gingham uniforms stood up as if they were one. On the wooden tables, covered by a worn out rubber sheet, steaming tin cups and tin battered plates contained the children’s breakfast. Miss Mills cleared her throat and said:

“Good morning, children.”

“Good morning, Miss Mills.”

“I want to introduce the new superintendent of the Glinda Merlin Home, Miss Belle French.”

“Good morning, Miss French,” they answered in that same bored and even tone.

Belle tried to smile and was about to step forward to address them, when the other woman cut her off.

“Now, I want you to introduce yourselves.”

The girl who was sitting on the first row, the closest to the door, said loudly:

“Mamie Prout, miss.”

“John Brown, miss,” the boy at her left said after her.

_ George Smith, Betsy Kindred, Hattie Heaphy, Louis Little, Fred Brown, Maggie Geer, Loretta Higgins… _ one by one, the dozens of children present at the dining room introduced themselves, and Belle tried, unsuccessfully, to memorize all their names. 

Once the introduction was over, the woman gave them license to finish their now cold breakfast. Not a protest, not even a sigh escaped the mouths of the children. When miss Mills turned to leave the room, Belle asked in a hushed voice:

“Aren’t we supposed to have breakfast with them?”

“Of course not,” the woman snarled. “Miss Blue is the one who looks over them during the meals.”

Belle looked at the woman sitting at a table on a pallet at the left end of the room, her eyes prying on the little heads as she sipped her coffee, and a shiver went down her spine.

Back in the hall, they found Astrid at the entrance again, closing the parasol and putting it into the umbrella stand beside the door. Belle’s dress had stopped dripping, but she was starting to get chills.

“Astrid, the keys.”

The secretary drew a heavy keychain from one of her pockets and handed it over to Regina, who offered it to Belle with a bright smile:

“Now, this is all yours. I’m sure you’ll do great.”

“Oh, but… I… I thought you were going to show me around?”

“Oh, there’s no need of that. If you have any concerns, you can ask Miss Blue. She will be delighted to help you.”

“Excuse me,” Belle couldn’t help but ask. “Is that all?”

“Ah, the honorable Darius Wykoff, one of our most generous trustees, will probably come to visit you very soon. He isn’t easily persuadable, but you are lucky, he likes brunettes. Ah, and the doctor comes to make his rounds every day at four, and he’ll probably want to meet the new superintendent. Good luck.”

Belle gaped with a frown as the woman picked an umbrella from the stand beside the door and made her way through the garden until she crossed the entrance and disappeared in her car. Several seconds passed until she noticed Astrid’s hand offering her a handkerchief.

“Do you want to see your rooms, miss?”

“Oh, yes, thank you,” she tried to smile. “And call me Belle.”

“Belle,” the woman nodded and smiled. “Come with me.”

Astrid led Belle through a door by the right into a library. A bow window let in the dim light of the rainy morning, illuminating several dusty bookcases standing against the wall, filled with books and tacky ornaments. Belle’s eyes lit up. Wherever there were books, she was among friends. 

The room’s wallpaper had a pattern of red and tobacco lines, and the floor was covered by a lincoln green carpet. The furniture was upholstered in electric blue, and Belle contained a giggle as she imagined Miss Mills and her dress matching the upholstery of her room.

They passed between two opposite desks, and Belle noticed that the fireplace was closed.

“What happened to the fireplace?” she asked.

“Oh, Miss Lippett closed it because it let air in.”

“Miss Lippett?”

“Miss Lippett, she was superintendent before Miss Mills.”

“I’m sorry, Astrid… How long have you been working here?”

“I have lived here my whole life. Well,” she chuckled. “For as long as I can remember at least,” Astrid finished, as she opened another door and led Belle into a bedroom decorated exactly like the library —green carpet and closed fireplace, but no bookcases. 

A single iron bed, a big old wardrobe, an essential vanity and a nightstand too tall for the bed made up the furniture of the room. In a corner, Belle’s luggage stood on a puddle of water over a rubber sheet.

“The bathroom is over there,” Astrid pointed with a finger, but drawing her hand back quickly. “I… I suppose I’ll let you… change… and… and… go prepare some breakfast for you?”

Belle looked at her, puzzled at the sudden change in her tone.

“Em, please, thank you. That… that would be perfect,” she tried to smile.

Astrid didn’t move, and instead, squeezed her hands.

“May… may I use the phone to call to the doctor’s house to make him know that you are here, safe and sound?”

Belle frowned, her lips slightly parted.

“Of course,” she smiled, shaking her head. “Actually, thank you for taking care of that.”

Astrid let out a breath.

“So, I’ll call the doctor,” she was counting with her fingers, “and then go and fetch breakfast for you, and wait for you at the dining room.”

“You should change your clothes, too, unless you want to catch something,” Belle smiled. “And prepare something for you too.”

The other woman returned the smile with a modest chuckle and slipped out of the room.

Once she was alone, Belle’s mind turned again towards her books, and a whine escaped her lips. She opened her luggage to confirm that her fears had come true. The few books she had carried with her were ruined, and all her clothes wet, except for a cocktail dress she had packed into a plastic bag.  _ I should have reserved it for the books _ , she told herself bitterly.

She hung the dress in the wardrobe and extended the plastic bag to lay the clothes and the books on it. Going through the drawers of the wardrobe, she found a robe. It was old and ratty, but at least it was dry. She took off the cardigan, the dress and the petticoat she was wearing, and wrapped herself in the robe.

Fortunately, there were towels and a hairdryer in the bathroom, and Belle was finally able to shower and put on damp-but-at-least-not-wet underwear and —not without a sigh— the cocktail dress. Nothing like wearing a party dress on your first day of work to show that you are a responsible, down to earth person, capable of being in charge of over one hundred children, she thought to herself.

The building was deathly quiet when Belle finally forced herself to join Astrid at the dining room. The door creaked as she pushed it softly and peeked in. It was empty, but Astrid’s voice resounded in the hall from somewhere upstairs:

“I’m sorry, Belle, I’m in the nursery, I’ll be there in a minute.”

The woman had not stopped speaking when another voice, shrill and rather unpleasant, shouted:

“Astrid! No shouting on the halls!”

“I’m sorry, Miss Blue!”

A door slammed shut, and Belle decided to seize the opportunity to explore the building. She made her way through the main stairs, the woods creaking under her shoes, and was only then that she noticed the smell of the place: a weird mixture of humidity, boiled cabbage and dirty diapers. She felt the urge to open a window and let air in. The second floor landing offered a view of the fields behind the asylum, and Belle fought with a window catch, taking mental note that they would need curtains for that part of the house soon. The latch finally gave in, and she celebrated her triumph as a fresh breeze entered through.

“That’s a beautiful dress, miss,” a little voice said quietly by her side, and Belle turned to find Marmie Prout looking at her with her hands behind her back.

“Well, thank you,” Belle exclaimed smiling. “Do you want to have one like this when you grow up?”

“Yes, miss. But I know I won’t, miss.”

“Why is that?”

“Miss Blue always reminds us that we shouldn’t aspire for things above our rank.”

Belle reached out to hug the girl, but Marmie ran away, probably thinking that she was going to strike her. She felt her cheeks burn, as her imagination offered her the idea of strangling Miss Blue. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply two or three times. The girl had gone upstairs, and Belle, refocusing on the task at hand, followed her steps and found herself on the second floor landing, wondering if the nursery would be in the east or the west wing.

“Over here, Miss… Belle,” Astrid’s voice called from the end of the west corridor, and the new superintendent followed it and stopped frozen at an open doorstep.

Inside, the secretary was bending the bars of a crib, while another woman pulled a toddler by the waist, trying to unstick his head from between the bars without breaking his neck or plucking off his ears. How the child had managed to push his head through, remained a mystery.

“Belle, this is Miss Lily Scarlett,” Astrid’s voice was strained by the effort. “She is in charge of the nursery and the infirmary.”

The boy’s head passed through the bars, and Miss Scarlett almost fell backwards. Astrid straightened, picking up a crawling baby that was about to touch a radiator and absentmindedly putting her in the crib.

“Miss Scarlett, this is Miss Belle French, the new superintendent,” she finished with a smile.

Miss Scarlett recovered her balance, accomodated the boy on her hip, touched up the glasses on her nose and extended her free hand to greet Belle.

“I’m so pleased to meet you! Miss Mills has spoken a great deal about you.”

There was an uncomfortable silence, and Astrid exclaimed, as if snapped out  of a daydream:

“The breakfast!”

And sprinted from the room.

“Excuse me,” Belle said with a little curtsy and dashed to catch up with her.

“I’m so sorry, Belle! Forgive me, please!”

“Do you mean… For helping Miss Scarlett instead of making breakfast?”

“Yes.”

“You… you didn’t do anything wrong, there’s no need to apologize.”

Astrid smiled softly and only then did Belle notice she was still wearing the wet clothes.

“You haven’t changed yet!”

The other woman blushed.

“Go, change your clothes, please. I think I can manage breakfast.”

“Oh, ok, thank you.”

She turned to the left, but retraced her steps immediately.

“The kitchen is right below, you can enter through the hall or through the dining room. My room is over there,” she pointed to the left. “Well, actually, there are only bedrooms and bathrooms on this floor. I… I’ll show you later…” she trailed off nervously.

Belle smiled reassuringly to her.

“Go ahead.”

It didn’t take Belle long to find the kitchen, and she pushed the door ajar. The room was even more humid than the rest of the house, and the temperature several degrees higher. A big, robust woman was stirring a concoction in an enormous pan, and behind the kitchen, in what Belle supposed was the laundry room, the girl with the tight braids was washing linen. Neither of them turned to look at her. Belle cleared her throat.

“Emm… Good morning! I’m the new superintendent, my name is Belle.”

The cook looked over her shoulder and murmured something about nosey people and empty-headed urban socialites. Belle pushed a little more.

“I arrived just this morning, and I was wondering if I could prepare some tea and biscuits for me and Astrid?”

The woman grunted and put a kettle on the fire. Belle took it as the closest thing she was going to get to an invitation to step inside, and stationed herself in the corner beside the door, not knowing what else to do. The silence was finally broken by the entrance of a short, solidly built man, who came in from the back, followed by a teenage boy. Between the two of them, they carried an old, long wooden ladder.

“Hello! Good morning!” Belle greeted with all the cheerfulness she was capable of summoning.

The man stared at her, his eyes fluttering from the dress to her face.

“My name is Belle. I’m the new superintendent.”

“I’m Leroy,” the man answered slowly, “and I am the janitor over here.”

“Nice to meet you, Leroy. And you are…?”

“The lady is talking to you, boy.”

“I’m Tammas Kehoe, miss,” answered the boy, barely raising his eyes from the floor.

“I see you are helping Leroy.”

“Yes, miss! I’m preparing… I’m going to a farm in the west soon.”

He blushed when he realized the enthusiasm with which he had spoken, but Belle’s face had lite up too.

“That’s great! I’m sure you are learning a lot with Leroy and that you are going to do great at the farm.”

The boy stood a little straighter, and Leroy gave Belle a surprised look.

“I hope so, miss.”

“That pipe isn’t going to repair itself, you know?” Leroy chimed in. “Come on, keep moving!” He turned to Belle. “Now, if you’ll excuse us… we have work to do.”

The janitor and his assistant disappeared through the door, and Belle noticed the odd odor of the concoction that was simmering over the fire.

“Em… Do we have a menu? Some kind of schedule of what the children eat over the week?”

The cook looked at her over her shoulder  _ again _ .

“There should be something like that on Miss Mills’ desk,” was the woman’s dry answer, and Belle wondered why everyone seemed to be against her from the get go. Maybe she was just tired and anxious. Maybe it was the dress…

Astrid entering the room like a storm snapped Belle out of that train of thought,  , and she sighed relieved when they left with the steaming teapot and a plate of cookies for the dining room, even if Astrid did almost break several pieces of china as she prepared the tea.

***

Belle sighed heavily and had to gather all her strength to not pound the desk with her fists. Between the tea and the biscuits, Astrid had managed to answer her questions about the horarium, the menu, the way discipline was handled, and every answer was like opening a new unpleasant surprise. After that, her secretary had taken her to visit the parts of the building she hasn’t seen yet: the windowless playroom, the dark bedrooms, the leaky classrooms and store room, the old bathrooms, the depressing infirmary, and the decrepit green reception of the ground floor. Every room was worse than the one before.

The dystopian feel of the tour was completed by the sight of Miss Matthews and… Miss Matthews —twins, they had to be twins, of all things— leading two straight lines of silent children from the classrooms on the third floor down the stairs towards the dining room. Belle was thankful that the visit to the woodshed and the farmer’s cottage was postponed because of the rain that continued to pour unceremoniously.

Lunch  had tasted exactly the way it had smelled in the kitchen that morning and had, thankfully, passed like a breeze, and Belle had spent the afternoon pouring over the asylum records. The only thing up to date was the discipline book, kept by Miss Blue. Every page Belle read, made her like the woman less and less. The personal records of the children did nothing to cheer up her spirits: of some of them the only thing the institution had was a birth token or a few notes about the time and place in which they had been found.

Belle forced a breath through her lips, her eyes fixed on the closed fireplace. She didn’t know where to start. There was so much to do, and she had so little help… besides Astrid, everyone seemed either wary of or openly unfriendly towards her, and she couldn’t find a reason why.

A bump against the door interrupted her train of thought. She stood up and went to the door, opening it just in time to hear a girlish voice growl:

“You won’t tell her, you twit.”

On the floor, a couple of feet away, the girl with the braids was rolling over a boy of about her age, who was now focused on eluding her punches and trying to get hold of one of her braids at the same time.

“Stop!” shouted Belle, alarmed, as she tried to separate them. She shouted the first name that came to her mind:

“Leroy! Leroy!”

All her strength wasn’t enough to restrain the girl in her arms, squirming and kicking and punching. Busy as she was, Belle didn’t notice the dark suited man that watched the scene from the top of the stairs.

“You know she could use some help, don’t you?” Leroy huffed as he passed by the doctor in his way to help Belle.

Soon, Leroy was grasping the boy’s shoulders, and a smug smile appeared in the man’s face as he contemplated the scene.

“Should I go fetch Miss Blue?” His voice was calm, smooth and rather low, but worked like magic on the young wrestlers, putting an end to the bustle.

Belle looked in the direction of the voice, and decided that his smile was totally out of place… and weirdly attractive. The doctor made his way downstairs, enjoying the suspense of the situation.

“Miss French, I suppose.”

He extended his hand and Belle shook it wearily.

“And I suppose  _ you _ are the visiting doctor.”

He dropped her hand softly.

“Miss Mills has spoken a great deal about you.”

He let the statement linger, his eyes studying the expression on her face with curiosity. A light shined for a second behind Belle’s eyes, and Dr. Gold seemed satisfied with what he saw, because he added:

“It has been a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss French. I’m positive you can deal with what’s left of this situation. Good night.”

“Good night, doctor,” Belle answered automatically, her mind hung on the implied meaning of his words.  _ Miss Mills set me up… Why? _

She had no time to dwell on the question, because Miss Blue appeared in front of them.

“What did you two do now?!”

The girl with the tight braids glared first at the boy and then at Miss Blue.

“Someone sneaked a cat in. I was going to tell Miss French, and he tried to stop me.”

The boy opened his mouth to protest, but Miss Blue didn’t seem to notice.

“It seems like discipline is finally making its salutary effect on you. But you should tell those things to me. Miss French is not to be bothered with such trivial matters.”

“She’s the superintendent.”

Leroy, Belle and the boy were watching the scene mesmerized, but the girl and Miss Blue seemed to have forgotten they existed.

“You must know who tried to let the animal in. I want the name.”

“I don’t know.”

“You are lying.”

The girl stared at her, defiant.

“You have learned nothing. This is how you pay the dedication and effort everyone here puts in you and your education.”

“You don’t care about me. You just want me to be miserable.”

“How dare you !”

Miss Blue was positively livid now. The girl knew where the sore spots were and how to hit them. 

“Very well. If you think that my goal here is to make you suffer, I’m happy to oblige. Go to bed. No dinner for you today.”

The girl gave her another defiant look and was about to obey when Belle stopped her.

“You can’t do this.”

Miss Blue looked at her with wide eyes.

“I beg your pardon?”

“You can’t make a child skip two meals in a single day. I know she didn’t have breakfast.”

“All due respect, Miss French, but you are new here, and I am the disciplinarian.”

“And I am the superintendent and the one ultimately responsible if something bad happens. I cannot let you do this.”

Belle’s cheeks had turned red, her eyes focused on the other woman, oblivious to the children and the man staring at her.

“Do you understand how serious this is? You are undermining the disciplinarian!”

“I’m doing what I should do. I cannot stand to watch this and do nothing.”

“And I cannot morally stand and watch you spoil our continued efforts to establish discipline in this institution and destroy the character of these children.”

“Then,  _ leave! _ ”

It was now Miss Blue’s turn to give Belle a stunned look. Her lips parted slightly, and she pressed them into a straight line.

“Very well. First thing in the morning.” Her tone was the same one uses to chastise a child. “I pity you, Miss French. You don’t know what you are doing.”

The woman left, Belle feeling too tired to answer anything. In front of her, the children still awaited their sentences. What was she going to do? She turned to the boy and asked:

“What’s your name?”

“Keeran Evans, miss. Miss Mills called me ‘Punch.’”

“Keeran. Leroy,” she looked the janitor in the eyes, “is going to give you a task to make amends for the time you have made him waste for this fight.”

The man nodded and Belle turned to the girl.

“Saddie Kate Kilcoyne, Miss.”

“Saddie Kate. You are going to help me with an important task. Como to my office tomorrow, after lunch, ok?”

“Yes, miss.”

“Fine. You can go now.”

Everyone left and Belle turned to her library, feeling exhausted. To make thesekind of decisions all by herself was something that felt odd to her. She tried not to look at the strident decoration of the room as she made her way towards her desk and plopped unceremoniously on the chair in front of it.

“Miss…”

It was Leroy, his head barely inside the room, his hands fidgeting with a worn out hat.

Belle sighed softly, closed her eyes and smiled, all at the same time, and then said:

“Call me Belle.”

“Belle,” He nodded. “It’s about Astrid.”

She remembered the scenes at the nursery and the kitchen that very morning and jumped up concerned.

“Is she alright?”

“Yes… well… no. These... women... They made her sleep in a crib yesterday.”

Belle opened her eyes wide.

“Listen, I won’t usually do something like this, but… you seem nice to me. If I were you,” he remarked his words by raising his eyebrows. “I’d avoid any chance of this… Miss Blue making it look like you are responsible for that.”

Belle shook her head shocked, and Leroy wondered if she had even heard the last part of his speech.

“A crib?!?!”

“Yes, m… Belle.”

She was almost shaking with rage, and her feet led her to the stairs. Leroy followed her.

“There’s a spare bed, in the store room. One of its legs is broken, but we can fix that.” The man fidgeted nervously.

“Show me.”

Everything was exactly as Leroy had told her, and some murderous instincts that Belle had never experienced before, coursed through her veins. She needed to channel it somewhere, so she helped Leroy repair the bed and replace the crib with it, Astrid looking at them and insisting that it wasn’t necessary and that they shouldn’t have bothered themselves. 

Belle’s first dinner at the institution wasn’t a good one either, even if she was too distracted trying not to murder Miss Blue with her eyes to notice the blandness of the food. After dinner, she watched the children climb the stairs towards their bedrooms, until Astrid emerged from the kitchen with a cup of chamomile in her hands.

“Thank you,” she told her secretary, trying to muster the energy to give her a smile. She managed only to look very tired. “I can’t believe they did this to you. I just…”

It was too much, and Belle felt like she was going to cry. Astrid pressed the cup in her hands and tentatively put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed.

“Thank you, for everything you have done. You have been here only for a day and, look at all the things you’ve accomplished! Drink this, have a good night of sleep, and you’ll see tomorrow things will look brighter.”

She gave her the widest smile, and with this comfort, Belle bid her good night and trailed off to her bedroom sipping the warm tea. Her mind was filled with all the stressing thoughts of the day, but her body soon fell under the weight of the fatigue, and she drifted into sleep.

***

Neal was gathering his few belongings as fast as he could. They were moving again. He knew it was the way this thing went: move, strike, move again. They never remained more than a few weeks in a certain place, but he couldn’t get used to it. 

The thing he wanted most was to run away, find a place in which he could start over. But, how? Malcolm was a powerful man, maybe not in terms of money, but in connections. He knew that he didn’t stand a chance in the streets if he left, which meant there was no way he could leave at all.

He opened the little locket attached to a chain he wore around his neck, and his sister smiled at him from the picture. He missed her. He missed her terribly. She was the reason why he had left his father’s home in the first place. The memories and the things unspoken had been too painful. If only he had stayed… If only he had tried another way... 

Well, his father hadn’t made things easier for him either. Where was he now? Did he miss him? Was he looking for him? Part of him wanted to believe it, wanted to hope that his father would appear any day to help him get away from the gang and then to make amends, try to repair what was left of their family, and yet… another part of him didn’t want to be seen like this. A thief. A coward. A murderer. The image of the police officer bleeding out in the hallway was seared in his mind. He was ashamed of himself. How could he face his father like this? 

None of these questions he could answer, and he knew he had to settle for the things he could work through. He kissed the picture. Maybe things would get better in the future. It didn’t seem like that now, but… he had to hold on. He closed the locket, hid the chain inside his clothes and left the room.


	3. Like Pigs in the Pen

If Belle’s first day as superintendent had been intense, the second did not follow far behind. Upon waking, it took her several seconds of staring at the tobacco-and-red wallpaper to remember where she actually was. The noise produced by thirty little girls getting ready for the day right over her head lifted her spirits. At least once a day those children got to behave like what they were, and take away the permanent mournful silence of the institution.

Belle jumped out of bed and went briskly through her morning routine, relieved that she now had an everyday purple dress to put on, and one that she loved. It wasn’t long before Astrid’s somber countenance came to cut short her optimism and tell her something had gone wrong.

“Miss Blue is leaving right now, and I don’t know if you want to have a word with her or...”

“Right now? But it isn’t breakfast time yet!”

Astrid gave her a distressed look, and Belle followed her into the hall.

The former disciplinarian, wearing a heavy grey coat and a blue cloché, stood dignified in front of the open door, straight as a needle.

“Miss Blue.”

The woman gave her an icy look.

“Miss French.”

“When you said you’d leave in the morning I… I didn’t expect you to leave before breakfast.” As much as Belle disliked that woman, she wouldn’t let anyone go away on an empty stomach. “You shouldn’t go before at least eating something, or giving us time to ask someone to come and pick you up.”

“I already had some tea and biscuits. And I prefer to walk.”

“Miss Blue…”

“Goodbye, Miss French. I’m very sorry for this institution and these children, but it seems that some lessons must be learned the hard way.”

And that said, she picked up her luggage and left. Belle stood there, having flashbacks of Miss Mills leaving the day before. She wondered if something good would ever come to happen at that doorstep. The children started to come down for breakfast, in that same hushed tone of every meal, and Belle and Astrid took Miss Blue’s place at the dining room stage. p.

***

Dr. Gold came out of his bedroom, the house even more silent than usual. The breakfast table remained untouched, a telltale sign that Mr. Dove hadn’t returned from his morning errands yet, which meant there was some piece of meaty gossip going around town. Well, Mrs. Smith and her delightful newborn could wait a little more. He sat on an armchair in the drawing room and started drumming the top of his bag with his fingers.

His thoughts went to the Glinda Merlin Home and its new superintendent. The memory of the petite brunette screaming and trying to hold down Saddie Kate while wearing a ridiculously exquisite cocktail dress amused him. What he couldn’t understand was why Regina had chosen her. She had always been one to play cat and mouse, that much was certain; she was Cora’s daughter and Milah’s cousin after all. Manipulation, it seemed, ran in the family. There must have been a reason why she insisted on Miss French for her replacement. Her praise of the woman had led everyone to think they were kindred spirits, but their brief encounter the day before told him otherwise. Regina had set her up, but, why? She was desperate, and she tended to make stupid decisions when she was desperate. How could she benefit from making everyone believe Miss French was another version of herself?  _ Opposition. Defeat.  _ A mirthless laugh escaped his lips.

The front door opened to let Mr. Dove in.

“Good morning, sir,” was the valet’s reaction upon seeing his master.

“You return later than usual, Mr. Dove. Is there anything I should know before venturing outside?”

“To be honest, there’s quite the commotion out there, sir. Miss Blue has returned from the asylum this very morning, quite distressed. She claims that the new superintendent has dismissed her, before breakfast, and forced her to walk all the way from the asylum.”

“Are you sure?” the doctor asked puzzled.

“I’m afraid that seems to be the case, sir. I just saw Miss Blue voicing her concerns to the vicar at the parsonage doorstep, sir.”

Even if Miss Blue’s account was most certainly a huge exaggeration, there was no doubt that the new superintendent wasn’t going to go down without putting up a fight and that she had no idea who she was dealing with. The likelihood of Regina’s plan working, at least in the way she wanted it to, was growing thinner every minute. Something had to be done, and fast.

“Is there something else you need, sir?”

“No, thank you, Mr. Dove.”

The big man bowed slightly and left for the kitchen. The doctor picked up his bag and left the house. He needed to pay a crucial visit.

***

“I’d be delighted to help,” was Miss Matthews’ (Elisabeth, not Margaret) enthusiastic answer when Belle asked her if she wanted to take Miss Blue’s place for the time being.

“I just need a couple hours to bring the essential things from home and I’ll be all set.”

“Thank you,” answered Belle, a bit surprised (an oddly comforted) by the concealed air of satisfaction in the woman’s voice.

A knock in the main door interrupted their conversation.

“That must be the honorable Wykoff,” Miss Matthews said with a tight smile, as she stood up and went to answer the door and then return to her classroom. A couple of minutes later a man wearing an impeccable grey suit and a fixed scowl was standing in the middle of the room, eyeing Belle.

“Good morning, Mr. Wykoff. Nice to meet you,” Belle greeted in her best tone, offering him her hand.

The man stared at her and she realized he had already made his first impression of her, and that it wasn’t favorable in the least. He huffed and took the chair Miss Matthews had been sitting before. Belle movedher extended hand into a “please, do sit” gesture, almost like a mute protest, and sat down too, not sure what to say next.

“I am deeply concerned about something I heard this very morning in town.”

Belle frowned.

“Em… I really don’t know what you are talking about.”

“Miss Stella Blue, Miss French.”

The man crossed his legs with the air of someone who is satisfied with his own theatrical performance.

“Is… is she alright?”

“Ha! And you have the nerve to ask such a question! One of this town’s most respected members, thrown out! Before breakfast! Without a penny! This is a very serious thing!”

Color roseto Belle’s cheeks, and she unconsciously stood up.

“I didn’t discharge her, she left! I insisted in her having breakfast with us before leaving! She said she already had some!” she exclaimed in the middle of her surprise.

“Are you implying that Miss Blue, I repeat, one of the most respected members of our community, someone who has dedicated her life to these children, someone we trust and who deserves our utmost respect, lied to us?”

Belle was taken aback.

“I know I’m not lying.”

Mr. Wykoff’s eyes fluttered over the bookcases for a moment, and then he added in a smooth tone:

“I suggest you wait a couple of days. Miss Blue is a most humble soul, and she will surely forgive your foolishness in consideration of your youth and inexperience.”

Belle gaped and turned towards the bookcase behind her desk, looking over the titles on the spines without actually reading them. Did any of thesepeople actually care for the children?

Mr. Wykoff took her silence as a gesture of submission, because he decided to change the topic:

“What does your father do for a living?”

“What?”

“I hope he isn’t one of those intellectuals with lots of money and no common sense.”

The constant gesturing with his arms while he spoke made the content of his speech even less palatable. Belle made an extraordinary effort to remain polite.

“He manufactures overalls.”

“Overalls. Good, sturdy things for real work. I think I like your father, Miss French.” 

A soft knock on the door preceded Astrid carrying a bouquet of purple carnations and amaryllis, and spared Belle of having to answer the trustee’s statement. There was a card attached to the flowers:

_ I’m sorry we fought. Gaston. _

She smelled the flowers, grateful for the little piece of comfort they gave to her.

“What’s this?” Mr. Wykoff’s face had turned red. “Flowers? Should I remind you that the money of this institution should be spent on the children and them only?”

“These are from my fianceé,” she replied, feeling extremely akin to Miss Matthews’ state of mind a few minutes before.

The man grunted.

“And when are you getting married, may I ask?”

“In a year’s time. We have been engaged for six months already.”

“A long engagement. That is an unfortunate thing. No man should be left waiting for too long if you want a happy and long marriage.”

It was Belle now the one staring at him. She made an effort to remain as calm as she could, but there was a distinct fire raging in the back of her eyes.

“My personal life is  _ my _ concern and if I ever need advice I will ask for it. Now, if you will excuse me...”

The man seemed to finally perceive the undertone of her words, because he stood and picked up his hat, murmuring something about stubborn silly little women in the process, and then said: 

“Well, Miss French, even after this problem is fixed, we are going to have to discuss this incident with the board of trustees and set a course of action for the future. Have a good day.”

Belle nodded and smelled the flowers still in her hands, and the trustee left with his head held high. It was going to be a long, long day, Belle thought as she watched Astrid come in with a vase for the flowers.

***

Officer Graham opened his eyes lazily. It was about noon, if he was to be guided by the light that entered through the huge windows of the hospital room. Nurses went back and forth from bed to bed, making it look like a hive of industrious bees, and he relished in the hazy doze he was immersed in.

A young blonde nurse stopped at the foot of his bed, picked up his chart and approached his side.

“How are you feeling today?”

Graham looked at her, trying to focus. There was something familiar in her voice and her countenance…

“Nurse… Swan?”

“Morphine has hit you hard, I see.”

“What are you doing here?” he asked frowning.

“I need answers.”

“And I need to recover from my wound?” His voice was uncertain.

She gave him a slightly amused smile and asked:

“The sooner we find them, the sooner you’ll be able to do something for those kids.”

“How… How did you know?”

Graham automatically tried to sit on the bed, eliciting a shush from the pretend nurse. The reprimand and the shooting pain on his shoulder made him plop on the bed again.

“I know how to do my work,” was her simple answer.

He looked at the ceiling.

“You are a private detective.”

“Something like that,” Emma replied carefully.

“Why this gang? Why these kids?”

“One of the kids. His father is looking for him.”

“And how exactly you plan to find him?”

“By helping the police do their work… and being in the right place at the right time.”

He considered her words. The young girl had everything thought out, it seemed.

“Tell me what I need to know,” she added. “You are in the hospital, unable to proceed with your investigation until you get discharged, but I am running free.”

“The ‘running free’ part is what makes me wary. You are too young to be going around chasing criminals.”

The “you are a girl” part was left unsaid… and fully understood. Emma was unfazed. It was bound to happen.

“Why don’t you just stop assuming I don’t know what I am doing? I know you are alone in this case.”

Graham didn’t know what to say.

“You help me, I help you, we both get what we want.”

“Fine. What do you need to know?”

“I know they came from Britain. I know that the boss, Malcolm Stilton, or “Peter Pan,” lures orphans and boys with family problems, offers them a way out, then uses them for his crimes until they are caught or just drop dead. I need to know how to find them.”

“And that’s what I wish I knew.”

“There’s a reason why you were there the other day in that alley.”

“There’s a reason why  _ you _ found me there,” he retorted.

“I was following you.”

He sighed in defeat.

“They arrive to a part of the city, strike in four or five places, no more, and then move away. Yesterday was strike number five in that zone. Who knows where are they now.”

“Great,” grunted Emma. “That’s why you took that risk.”

He gave her a look of assent. The realization hit Emma like a ton of bricks.

“Don’t tell me. It’s going to take months, isn’t it?”

“That’s our best chance.”

Her face must have betrayed her dismay, because he added immediately:

“We just need to help each other, do our work, and be in the right place at the right time.”

She smiled in a way that showed her scepticism, and clicking his chart on the footboard of his bed, left the room.

***

The afternoon sun entered through the bow window of the library, and Belle started to feel that her world had stopped spinning. Miss Matthews was at that moment taking over Miss Blue’s bedroom with great satisfaction; it had been slightly more difficult to persuade Leroy to join them at the table, but he had finally yielded and the somber vigilance of Miss Blue had been replaced but the odd little group of the superintendent, the secretary, the teacher and the janitor; she had finally found a moment to write to Wendy. It was cathartic to be able to talk to someone about what was happening around her, specially if that someone didn’t gravitate around the institution. 

Someone knocked firmly at the door, and Belle raised her eyes just in time to see Sadie Kate standing on the threshold, all tight braids and determination.

“Did you bring the rags and the notebook?” she asked smiling.

The girl raised her arms to show the objects in her hands.

“Great. Now, come over here,” she instructed in a soft voice, drawing her to the bookshelves. “We are going to make an inventory of these books. Let me show you.”

Belle picked from the shelf a green volume with a heavy leather cover and wiped it with one of the rags. She then wrote down the title, author, and year in which the book had been published, and finally laid it on the carpet, instructing Saddie to pile the books there  as she progressed with the inventory. The girl learned the task in no time, and they started to work on the shelves side by side.

“Oh, um, is the cat ok? I hope Miss Blue didn’t scare it too much.”

Saddie choked a chortle.

“He’s alright, miss.”

“What’s his name?”

“Mishka, miss.”

The voice of the girl was calm, but tense.

“Is he yours or…?”

The girl took a deep breath and stopped for a minute.

“It’s Mamie Prout’s, miss. She was going to be adopted a few weeks ago, but then the family decided not to take her the day before. She feels sad. I found the kitten and thought she would like it. It makes her smile,” she answered without looking up.

Belle recalled her conversation with the little girl the day before, the look in her eyes, and a knot formed in her throat. How many children there had experienced the same thing? She had approached this job with all the intention of doing as best as she could, but in this moment she realized the magnitude of the task. Those children needed a mother a piece, but how was she going to provide that to them?

“I’m so sorry,” she managed to say.

“I’m quite sure you are.”

This time it was a smooth scottish voice that spoke from the doorway, and both women turned their heads to look at the doctor standing there, bag in hand.

“Dr. Gold! I didn’t expect you at this hour,” Belle said startled. It seemed like he had a preference for dramatic entrances.

“That’s what I call a warm reception,” he retorted with a crooked smile.

If Belle had looked at Saddie, she would have been surprised by the amusement sparkling in her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” she shook her head. “Is there something you need to tell me? We just started here.”

The thing she needed the least right then was another chat about Miss Blue.

“Well, I think we haven’t had a proper first conversation yet.”

“And you think  _ now _ is the moment for it?” 

He shrugged.

“It seems like Miss Kilcoyne has mastered the task.”

“That would be a very good reason to have this conversation at another time.”

“Or elsewhere,” he provided, gesturing outside.

There was no way to politely refuse, so Belle finally yielded and followed him outside, a disappointed Saddie Kate pouting in the background.

The doctor headed to the stairs and asked:

“Why did you came here, Miss French?”

So it wasn’t about Miss Blue. She relaxed a bit.

“I have received so much in life, and I wanted to give something back to the world.”

“And of all things possible that meant becoming superintendent of an orphan asylum.”

She huffed.

“I had this friend in college. She lived in a place like this for a time. We had lots of ideas and wanted to see them come to life.”

“And, may I ask, how did you prepare to fill this position?”

His voice was casual, even curious.

“Well, I have my college degree, and I visited several institutions before coming here…”

They had reached the first floor landing, and the doctor looked through the window absorbed in thought, as if he were trying to diagnose a rare condition.

“And you think that will be enough.”

Belle blushed.

“Well, it isn’t like I had that much time to study anything else.”

But the doctor seemed not to be listening to her anymore.

“Is that supposed to be there?”

Belle followed his line of sight and discovered a hog pacing close to the building.

“What… Why… Why is that there?”

“I don’t know. Odds are it escaped from a pen, don’t you think?”

Belle blushed deeply. Of course, if there was a farmer’s cottage and fields, there was the possibility of farm animals too.

“I… I’ll take care of this.”

She ran towards the front door and the doctor followed her with long, slow steps and a subtle smile painted on his face. It was only when Belle reached the garden that she realized she had no idea as to how to catch a hog. Her eyes surveyed the unkempt grounds between the house and the gates, until they spotted a rope abandoned on one of the parterres. She picked it up and made a lasso to try and catch the animal.

“That knot would be very useful if you were trying to strangle the poor beast.”

She glared at him.

“You could actually give me hand instead of just standing there and criticizing me.”

“I’m not a farmer, dearie.”

She rolled her eyes, annoyed by the ironic endearment, and tried to make the lasso look less murdery. The animal looked at her lazily, and eluded every attempt of her to put the rope around its neck with ease.

The doctor was positively amused by the spectacle in front of him. Just a few more minutes and Mr. Nolan would casually come around and then… The apparition of a pinkish little thing made him turn back to reality. Belle had noticed the piglet too, and decided it would be far easier to return to the pen, wherever it was.

Everything seemed to slow down as the doctor’s eyes shifted from the piglet to Belle and then to the hog and back. There was no time for warnings. Belle approached the little thing, arms outstretched, and suddenly a strong arm grabbed her by the waist and pulled her away.

The hog bolted out and run through the spot in which she had been standing a split second before, stopping several feet away. Belle realized she was panting, the doctor’s arm still firm around her waist and her body pressed against his. Her heartbeat quickened even more when she noticed his heavy breathing against her neck. He didn’t move either, trying to silence that not so still voice of his body telling him not to let her go, the way she fitted in his arms so perfectly.

The rackety noise of a truck on the road made them turn to look at the gates. The truck stopped and a forty-something man got out of it and waving his arm in greeting, started walking towards them.

Belle muttered a “thank you,” as the doctor let go of her awkwardly and she smoothed her skirts.

“Good afternoon!” the man exclaimed with a bright smile when he was a few feet away from them. 

“Miss French, this is Mr. David Nolan. The Nolans live in the white cottage by the road.”

“Pleased to meet you, Miss French,” the man said shaking her hand.

“I’m the new superintendent. And you can call me Belle.”

Mr. Nolan hesitated and then nodded. 

“Oh, emm, would you mind helping us with this?” Belle waved the rope in her left hand aimlessly.

“Of course,” he answered taking the rope and fixing the knot. He then frowned. “Where is Mr. Keith?”

Belle recalled Astrid mentioning a Mr. Keith…  _ the groundskeeper _ .

“Oh, he must have not noticed. I’ll look for him.”

Belle tried to look self assured as she turned around and walked away looking for the farmer’s cottage. She should have asked Astrid to make that trip and also see the woodshed that morning, but between Miss Blue and Mr. Wykoff, and then Miss Matthews and Leroy, she had totally forgotten  about it. A loud squealing in the background told her that Mr. Nolan was successful.

“Help me with the little one, Gold,” Mr. Nolan shouted once Belle was out of hearing range.

“I beg your pardon?”

“You pushed me into this, bear the consequences.”

Gold grimaced but yielded and picked up the little thing that, hearing the squeals of its mother, had gone deadly quiet. He carried it with arms outstretched and rumpled nose, until he was walking only a few feet away from Mr. Nolan. The forty-something man looked serious.

“I’m not comfortable doing this.”

“Let me ask you some questions, Mr. Nolan, may I?”

The farmer took a deep breath.

“Go ahead.”

“Do you think Mr. Keith is someone apt to work with children?”

“Well, everyone has…” Another deep breath. Trying to defend someone like Mr. Keith was too high a price for trying to win that exchange. “No.”

“Do you need a job?”

“Don’t get me started on jobs. The deal you made with Emma…”

“I asked her to find my son in exchange for a recommendation. She wanted to do it.”

“What she wants and what she needs don’t necessarily overlap.”

“And you do really think that she would have stayed home if this opportunity had not presented itself?”

Mr. Nolan didn’t answer.

“Did you have the means with which provide for her?” the doctor asked in a more subdued tone, looking away.

Mr. Nolan blinked rapidly. He had been unemployed for over a year: the estate in which he worked as a foreman had been sold and all the personnel replaced, and the odd jobs he had found since then hadn’t been enough to provide for his family, even if his wife, Mrs. Nolan, helped as much as she could, making preserves, sewing and embroidering. His age and experience didn’t help him in his quest for a job, and soon he had to send his youngest child, Robert, over to the house of a distant relative, several states away. Emma, his oldest, had left soon after, and he missed both tremendously.

“If this works, you get a job, you can have your son by your side again, and this place gets a competent groundskeeper.”

Mr. Nolan nodded curtly and both men continued to walk in silence.

“I can’t believe he has everything… like this,” he exclaimed with a disgusted face when the strong smell of the pen finally offended his nose.

“A great opportunity for his successor to shine,” Gold answered dropping the piglet over the fence.

“Wait a minute,” the man stopped short. “You let the piglet out too? Did you want to murder her?”

“I’m not an idiot. It must have escaped somehow.”

Mr. Nolan raised his eyebrows.

“So what I saw was because she tried to pick it up.”

The doctor blushed a little.

“Let’s just say that the accident was avoided.”

“Sure.”

With a last movement, Mr. Nolan freed the hog into the pen and tied the gate with the rope.

“Where is Miss French?” he asked abruptly.

Both men looked in the direction of the cottage and spotted the purple dress pounding on the door.

“Is Keith there?”

“He certainly prefers to start early,” the doctor answered shaking his head.

Belle saw them approaching and shouted:

“Nobody answered , but he is supposed to be here, right?”

She felt stupid. And she hated to feel stupid.

“I thought of leaving a note, but I don’t have anything to write on.”

The doctor surveyed his pockets as he made his way through the path kicking rusty cans right and left, and offered Belle a pen and a tiny notebook when he found them. Belle scribbled a few words and passed the note through the threshold.

“Well, this is it, I suppose,” she finally said, returning the items to the doctor and smoothing her skirts. “Thank you, Mr. Nolan.”

“You are welcome. I should head home now, my wife is waiting for me.”

“Of course. Have a good night.”

The farmer nodded and looked towards the doctor, that nodded in return, and left.

“Well, Miss French, this has been a most refreshing experience, but I should make my rounds before sunset.”

“Oh, of course, yes,” she answered, setting herself into motion. “So… Em… Why did you come here?”

He shrugged.

“I’m an specialist in children’s health. It wouldn’t make sense for me to work at a nursing home, don't you think?”

She frowned slightly and opened her mouth to ask another question, but he interrupted her.

“Miss French, Which kind of connection do you have with Miss Mills?”

If they were going to talk, better he be the one to ask the questions, he thought.

“I actually just met her yesterday. We wrote to each other before, but…”

“You accepted the position of superintendent of an institution you hadn’t visited?”

Belle blushed.

“And never thought of visiting said institution before actually taking the job?”

“How was I supposed to know!?” She blurted. “She told me not to worry, that she would explain everything to me on my first day…”

“But she didn’t.”

She let her arms down in defeat and they continued to walk in silence for several minutes. So, that was Regina’s plan, Gold told himself: put someone weak in her place and wait to be called back in a hurry when the poor girl’s nerves gave in. It didn’t surprise him that Regina wanted to get away from her mother. Anyone would want to. There’s a problem, though, when you equate youth and weakness: you may end up hiring someone emotional, irreflexive and stubborn instead. And now he was left to deal with this mess.  _ Great, Regina. Thank you, dearie. _

“I have been looking at the menu,” ventured Belle. “Have you seen it?”

The doctor refrained from a disgusted grimace appearing on his face.

“We are very limited by the production of the home’s fields,” he replied cautiously.

“Well, I was thinking,” she was now fidgeting in concentration. “I saw, in one of those homes in New York, a field like this transformed into little individual gardens. Maybe Mr. Keith can teach the children to cultivate, and we can have more variety, like carrots and beets and corn and tomatoes and turnips…”

Her face lit up as she talked and gestured with her hands, and the doctor found himself looking at her intently, not even noticing it when they arrived at the doorstep.

“I… I suppose I should leave you to your rounds now,” she finished.

Almost as if coming out of a trance, he answered:

“Yes, yes, of course,” and picking up the bag he had left there upon exiting, made his way to the infirmary.

Belle’s speech kept nagging at him until he acknowledged that maybe, and just maybe, the new superintendent had some interesting ideas. The door of the library was slightly ajar when he passed by the hall on his way out, and something inside him screamed for him to tell her about his plans. But he wasn’t suicidal, no, he had not lost his mind, and that’s why he hurried to leave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Saddie Kate of this story is older that the one in the original novel: she's a teenager.


End file.
